


Cold Room

by Darkness_Rising



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Autobots - Freeform, Combaticons - Freeform, Decepticons - Freeform, Implied past torture, M/M, Transformers - Freeform, flash challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2020-03-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:13:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23263768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darkness_Rising/pseuds/Darkness_Rising
Summary: Vortex spends time in his room of sanctuary.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	Cold Room

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a LiveJournal 500 word flash fic challenge back in 2016, but never posted. The prompt was cold Room.
> 
> Transformers and these characters belong to Has/Tak, I'm just playing with them.

There’s nothing special about the basement room; it has the obligatory four walls, a ceiling and a floor. There is only one way in, and out, and very few make it through the door of their own accord, or on their own feet. The space is sparsely furnished with a heavy workbench spanning the length of one of the walls while a cold, adjustable metal slab sits centre of the room, the surface marred by scratches and deep gouges.

One of the grey walls is adorned with an intricate web of chains, shackles and pulleys, some of which extend along the dark ceiling, ominously hanging over the central slab. There are several lights strategically placed around the room but only one is lit.

To the audial, the only sounds are the hum of a living system and the gentle rasp of a sharpening tool sliding across a blade, but the lone mech sat hunched at the bench working on a tool with the utmost of concentration, can also hear the echoes of past cries and screams, the memories welcome companions in his fortress of solitude. His team only venture into this room when they must, always eager to leave, plating prickling with unease as though ghostly hands are reaching out, touching them.

Only when his tool is sharpened does the mech look up, his ruby visor glowing in satisfaction as he looks around him.

Yes, this room is Vortex’s sanctuary, the place he does his best work. It may be cold at present but in time both the room and Vortex will come to life.

The interrogator is pulled from his thoughts by a sound at the open door, his optics landing on the large frame of his commander, Onslaught remaining behind the threshold.

“Still nervous?” Vortex smirked, laying the newly sharpened instrument in its place on the bench.

Onslaught notices the gentleness Vortex uses, such a contrast to the way he does everything else. “You have been rejecting my calls.” The Combaticon commander ignored his subordinate’s comment.

“Busy.” Vortex replied, checked over his instruments.

Onslaught bristled. Vortex could annoy him without even trying. “You are about to get busier, we have company.”

Vortex's visor brightened. “Then we shouldn’t keep our guest waiting.” He rose from his stool just as Brawl came lumbering down the basement hallway, an unconscious mech thrown over his shoulder.

A surge of excitement rolled through Vortex as the intermittent shards of light from narrow, high level windows lining the hallway bounced off bright yellow plating. “Oh, Onslaught, you bring me the best gifts.” He stated gleefully as the Commander stepped aside to let Brawl pass.

The burly Combaticon unceremoniously dropped his limp cargo onto the slab in the centre of the room, grunting as he did before hastily retreating whilst Vortex quickly strapped the Autobot to the table.

“The very best gifts.” He vented, but Onslaught had already turned away, leaving the Autobot, Vortex, and that room behind.

The room which suddenly, wasn't so cold.


End file.
